I got a tarnished reputation
A tattoo on my butt
There'll be no celebration
If I get out of this rut.
I'm wearin' dirty bluejeans
My pocket's hangin' low
No money left to wash 'em
Jobs are sorta slow.
Just sittin' on my cycle
Waitin' for the light.
Ain't worth a plug nickle
Just can't seem to get it right.
Yep, a tarnished reputation
That tattoo on my butt
I'll visit some relations
Convince them I'm a nut.
Stories, Old Ragged Verse, Letters to and from mountain cousins by Storyteller and Appalachian Humorist Stephen Hollen. Enjoy the humor and bittersweet memories of Eastern Kentucky and a place where the mist crawls down the mountainside ''like molasses on a cold plate''
Saturday, August 28, 2004
Friday, August 27, 2004
Cycle Flying
The burpa burpa of a cycle
Smell of Leather
Liquid touch of chrome
Creaks as I move
Perfect angular mechanics
Tight against your chest
Well oiled poetry
Movin' like a second skin
Feels like flyin' down the road
Makes the world feel good.
Smell of Leather
Liquid touch of chrome
Creaks as I move
Perfect angular mechanics
Tight against your chest
Well oiled poetry
Movin' like a second skin
Feels like flyin' down the road
Makes the world feel good.
Labels:
poetry,
Stephen Hollen
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